Tiny grains of gray sand rolled down the ever-changing dunes of the Spirit Realm. Always in motion, yet always the same, those endless planes of twilight were the home of souls and the graveyard of their memories.

The moment the gamur, and with it a Binshi’s earthly life, was extinguished, the amir entered this realm, destined to wander until all the feelings and experiences that defined it’s self faded away. When that happened, the soul slowly lost its shape forever and turned to dust for the gods to spread over the worlds or reshape anew as they pleased.

No one, not even the most powerful shaman, could escape this fate. Be it for hundreds or thousands of years, they could only prolong the inevitable. They were the lucky ones. For there were those poor souls amongst the Binshi who lacked a complete amir, the ones born with only half of the Morning Star’s blessing.

After passing, they couldn’t regain shape in the Spirit Realm and were deprived of the gift to interact with the living to ease the transition. Worse - they were denied the sweet oblivion of eternal death. They couldn’t fade into dust. They couldn’t move on or be one with the world again. They just lingered and waited. And hated.

Wisps of black mist seeped between the dunes like rivers of darkness, all flowing towards a single spot and forming a large lake of pure night. Whispers rose in the air like the sad gale of winter winds.

“Mama. Where are you? I’m scared! It burns!”

“Please, my lord, don’t!”

“No! Don’t touch me! Help! Somebody!”

“I’m not your dog! Let me go!”

“Curse you and your nesvets! You are demons!”

“What have we ever done to you?”

“It hurts! It hurts so much! Make it stop!”

“Please, spare me. I’m with child!”

“I hate you! I hate you!”

At the very center of the black lake, a lone figure floated on the mirror-like surface. Stamming from a huge hole in its chest, small cracks spread all over its body, their iridescent depths oozing out black liquid. From time to time, the being convulsed, its features, its height, and even its shape changing. Men, women, children, they all came and went, slowly melting into one entity.

The black lake churned. Vine-like wisps rose from its surface and dug into the ghost’s flesh.

Akh-Moren’s mouth opened and a scream traveled over the endless planes. The deep wound on his chest was scorching him, shattering his form and dispersing his being, but the black mist reformed it again and again.

It was pure agony!

That damn sword! That damn man who had stabbed them.

“Noah! Lux! Norden!” a dissonant voice screeched before another name left the trembling lips. “Yanosh!”

They were going to pay! Every single one of them. For the pain. For the betrayal. For standing in their way.

Yanosh had been stabbed by that soul-killer too. He was probably about to dissipate somewhere not far from here. They were going to find him. To consume him. Use his last spark to nurture theirs. He would have sacrificed himself for naught.

A thick swirl of darkness separated from the black lake and snaked its way between the dunes - leaving Akh-Moren behind in search for the desired prey.

Oh, but when they found him, they wouldn’t destroy Yanosh completely. Not yet. The day was drawing near when Limeria would fall and Norden would finally be free, and the blood of its people - cleansed and brought back to greatness.

Yes, a bit of Yanosh should be kept intact. Just enough of his consciousness, to be able to witness the unity between ‘the blood of Beast and Stars’. When Shana bore their perfect children and finally helped restore the might of the moren-gadir, Yanosh would be there to see the triumph of the Binshi as the prophecy he tried to manipulate finally fulfilled itself.

Incorporeal tears rolled down the fiend’s face but it laughed, savoring the anticipation. While slowly absorbing the darkness from the black pool, Akh-Moren forged and reforged plan after plan.

Their body in the Mortal Realm was paralysed while its soul was temporarily trapped here. There was no way to contact their little puppet in Ildemar for some time. But they knew that when the dust settled, their loyal Elders would attempt to make contact. Let those foolish Limerians and their traitorous dogs believe they had won. Let them bask in a false sense of security. A good hunter knew how to stalk their prey.

Still, there was a variable out of their control. The Second Prince. He was going to make his move on Ildemar soon. Up to now, their needs had coincided - weaken Norden and kill the bastard on the ducal throne. Considering the situation, maybe they should try and contact Master Argente… No. They were too weak and tired to bother. Besides, the Duke of Norden was not a feeble opponent to be toppled by the likes of some spoiled Limerian princeling. Even better, when the two sides had exhausted themselves, they were going to strike.

Pain and elation overcame Akh-Moren, another scream leaving his translucent lips.

Yes, next time they would be better prepared. That cursed sword was destroyed. The Star of Norden was damaged. When they recuperated, Ildemar would turn to dust.

Oh, they wouldn’t kill that bastard Duke immediately. He would first suffer. They would take their time, carving his body and twisting his soul before turning him into a dhrowghost to serve in the destruction of his precious Limeria. He would howl and beg for mercy, for death. And they would make him watch as they killed everyone close to him - that pesky little page; that traitor, forsaking his kin and playing a knight; that wife of his…

No! The Duchess shouldn’t die. She was too precious. In all those years, she was the first one like them… like him.

Akh-Moren’s back arched, the iridescent cracks scarring the soul closing up ever so slightly.

Lorelei of Norden. They had recognized her for what she was the moment their hands touched on that beach. A perfect vessel. A way to be again; a way for even more of them to enact their revenge. Although someone had attempted to mask her, she was still pure, untaken, untethered. They had to hurry before some other being discovered this treasure.

She was theirs!